


A Carnal Contemplation

by MRTL85



Series: Fade to Black [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Bulls club like cock, Cassandra Pentaghast POV, Challenge Accepted, Domineering Varric, Dragon Age In-Universe Book: Swords and Shields, Dream Sex, F/M, Female Protagonist, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Relationship, She fucks so much harder when she's hot for it, Table Sex, breaking the table, dream sex in the forge/armoury, glorious chest hair, realized romantic feelings, romantic pining, silver tongue, suggestion of threesome F/M/M, wicked dwarf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:36:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MRTL85/pseuds/MRTL85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet evening in the Forge with her favourite book leads Cassandra to a dream that both terrifies and stirs unusual feelings within her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Carnal Contemplation

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to Eclectify and Shadowfire-RavenPhoenix for helping me with this. Without your help, I probably would have still been stuck on writing it down; you two made this go so much smoother than what I expected. My humble gratitude goes out to you both. And please feel free to let me know if I did alright on this. I am having doubts.
> 
> I also promise that by then end of this series, Cass will have a happy ending, even though it doesn't appear that way now. 
> 
> Part 3 of the 'Fade to Black' series. 
> 
> All Dragon Age things belong to Bioware/EA. I just like to play with their toys.

 

 

A Carnal Contemplation

 

 

_Now her hand is raised, a sword to pierce the sun, with the iron shield she defends the faithful, let chaos be undone._

 

- **Canticle of Victoria 1:3**

 

 

After the fire was tamped down to a gentle orange glow and last blacksmith had put his tools to bed, Cassandra became eager to crack open and delve between the pages of _Swords and Shields_. It felt like an eternity since she had been able to read anything except maps and reports since the inquisition had been reinstated by her own hand. Even though she welcomed the constant preoccupation that it awarded, part of her still missed the ability to simply pick up a book and read whenever she felt like it. Sometimes though, on evenings like this, she afforded herself a spare moment after changing into her shift. On those nights, she would sit near the dying fire and allow herself to escape among that book. Varric's words would envelope her, spinning images like a spider among her thoughts, allowing her mind a much needed break from life's obligations.

It was her favorite by far. Every spare moment she could afford had been trained on the tale now, every detail vivid in her mind, as sharp as the blade she wielded. It never left her once, holding steadfast in her mind and as she neared the final pages, a growl of frustration shot forth. She was, yet again, reminded that he had left it as a terrible cliffhanger. How could he have left it like that? She had no idea how he allowed it to go unfinished. It was a crime in her mind and she wanted -no, needed- to know how it was going to be resolved. Desperation and unease filled her to the brim; the need to have resolution was almost unbearable. Nearly five years had gone by without any conclusion in sight and she wondered if the dwarfs final installment would never see the light of day. She very nearly couldn't take the suspense for much longer. Not that she would tell him that. She would rather be slain by an Abyssal High Dragon, then tell him what she thought of his smutty literature. She was not about to have the dwarf make fun of her for her choice in books.

Minutes turned into hours as dusk's sleepy glow faded to inky black, creeping up on her like a shadow in the night. Realizing she wouldn't be able to continue reading with the fading light, she struck a match which sparked to life against the wood of the desk; the candle accepted the coral coloured flame like a lover as she put the match to the wick. Maker she was tired. She should probably think about retiring for the night, if she was honest with herself. A yawn slowly escaped her lips, as she turned her attention to the novel that often dominated her thoughts. _Perhaps after I finish these last few pages I will think of sleep,_ she reasoned with herself, letting another yawn take purchase on her lips.

Attempting to pick up after her momentary break, she noticed the words starting to blur in the dim light. Her lids—rough as sandpaper against her tired eyes—squeezed shut and she rubbed at them forcefully, trying to keep sleep at bay. Sweet Andraste, she wanted nothing more than to stay awake and finish the book. Forcing her heavy lids open to their limit, she blinked several times and stretched like a cat to wake her heavy limbs up—desperately trying to convince her tired body to allow this one guilty pleasure, no matter how much her mind was at odds with it. The determination to finish it was at the forefront of her mind.

Giving another yawn, she picked up the book and began another attempt, but simply couldn't do it. The book began to slip from her calloused fingers and landed on her chest with a soft thump. Her long lashed lids drooped heavily once, twice, and then shutting completely—closing themselves like a heavy door. Slumber was imminent.

~aCc~

Waking to the sound of low, gravelly chuckling meeting her ears, she realized the tone was familiar. Starting at the realization; her eyes flew open to spy the dwarf staring at her, his features a flourish of amusement and something else she couldn't quite place.

“Varric! What in Most Holy's name are you doing here?” She sputtered, the book slipping down her chest, panic written on her face as clear as the words in his book. Maker, her secret indulgence would be seen by the person who she wished to hide it from the most. What was she going to do? She couldn't very well hide it, especially when it was perched precariously atop her breasts like it was. And if the chortling coming from him was anything to go by, he had obviously spotted it too. Damn! She would just have to face him head on, there was nothing else she could do. May the Maker have mercy on her soul.

“I could ask you the same thing, Seeker.” She heard his rugged voice say with a sly grin, leaning in toward her—his sturdy frame a craggy bluff before her and she, the sea beneath. There was no escaping it. He had placed a sturdy hand on her armrest now—creaking slightly under his strong grip—and she knew herself to be trapped. That's when she noticed his free hand slithering out like a snake to pluck the slipping book from her bosom. His fingers slowly met the cover, nails scratching against the thin fabric of her shift underneath, pressing down into the valley of her breasts. Heat radiated from his hand while it was sandwiched between the cover and her chest, scorching her skin through the cloth between them. A burning spark sprang to life as his fingers lingered in the hollow the book had created, once again igniting the smouldering desire for him she had many times tried to stamp out.

He flicked his eyes down to the book in his hand. “Now, what do we have here? Swords and Shields? Huh...” he drawled with amusement. “I never would have guessed that you of all people would take _pleasure_ in reading my romance serial. I pinned you as more of a Hard in Hightown kind of girl. You learn something new everyday.”

She wanted more than anything to wipe the smirk off his face, and yet, she couldn't bring herself to do it. There was something about his manner that was notably different. She had expected him to have some witty comment at the ready to tease her, but instead, he had carried on the conversation as if he was generally intrigued. And had she detected something along the lines of a play on his own words? Well, at least that was reassuring, since he was well known for it. Perhaps she was reading into it too much. He couldn't possibly be trying to show interest in her, could he?

Before this surprisingly intimate encounter though, she had—from time to time—caught herself thinking provocative thoughts of the dwarf. It was a hard truth and one she had often tried to ignore. She knew him only as an ass and a liar. There was no reasonable explanation that she should she be even remotely interested in someone so different from herself. It must have, in part, been the way he flaunted his masculinity like a trophy; allowing his brawny expanse of chest—covered in a spattering of burnished gold hair—to bare itself for all of Thedas' eyes to see. It was more than distracting. But that was just skimming the surface, to be honest. The true reason was his way with words; they came as natural to him as breathing—a master of his craft, to be sure. He brandished them as confidently as he did his crossbow, often firing them out into the world like one of his bolts and just about as deadly too. Now, she obviously hated when he turned them towards her, notoriously using them to prompt her for some form of terse response, but his books were another matter entirely.

When his words were written, they flowed over the page like silk, caressing her mind so intimately, it often left her feeling like a puddle on the floor. It was utterly confounding. How could he be so caustic and bothersome in person, only to turn around and scribe such erotic and tantalizing words upon the page? And yet, a self proclaimed liar, thief and all around scoundrel was not someone she had intended on being attracted to, but there was a certain sort of romanticism in that she just couldn't ignore. As time went on, her steely heart began to warm to his constant pestering and presence—so much so, that every time she laid eyes on him, he made her feel as if one hundred Drufallo were stampeding in her chest. Regardless, she hid it well. The disgusted noises and grimacing she made were just to throw him off the scent. She didn't exactly wish to have her heart's affections ridiculed by none other than the man who inspired them. Finding it hard to believe her heart had chosen him, of all people, she couldn't explain it. It was preposterous.

She could feel his warm breath ghost over her lips—he was so very close to her now. Normally, she would have just given him a push and stormed off, but that wouldn't accomplish anything. What it would do, is make her feel more flustered than she already felt and give him more fodder to rib her with. Best deal with it straight away, like a wound. Deep down however, tucked away like a family heirloom, hope reigned. This moment between them had the potential to ignite her already kindled passion. But what could she possibly say to him? She was fatally bad at these things. Any courage she had bolstered vanished at her confession. Perhaps she would stay silent, and just glower at him—her ruse coming to the rescue yet again. 

Watching his glinting hazel eyes shift from their place upon the book's cover to stare into her own, her breath caught in her throat at the sight; they shone like titanite gemstones in the dim candlelight as he dragged them slowly downward, laying them to rest on her plump lips. Bringing such attention to her mouth made her cheeks burn under his scrutiny and she ran her tongue over them in a silent reply. She was certain her action had enticed a small groan to fall from his lips; the noise causing the rosy blush that made home upon her cheeks to creep like down her neck like a vine. Was he actually trying to show interest in her? Show her he actually felt something more between them? A small touch of optimism fluttered in her sheltered heart, daring her to think the impossible.

“Would you like to know my secret on writing romance novels, Cassandra?” He teased, saying her name with unspoken intention. Her usual boldness evaporated like steam from a bath at the use of her proper name, and even though she thought to shake her head no, she couldn't help but feel the spark of curiosity ignite within her mind. How _had_ he produced such enticing words that had often left her breathless? She yearned to know, and even though it was against her better judgement, she gave a nod.

 

He leaned in slowly and her senses became heightened. All time seemed to slow for her. It was his scent that hit her first, it's rich aroma invading her nose. It reminded her of apples, cocoa, and spice as it curled around her like smoke; bold and intoxicating, making her head swim. Rough pinpricking of his stubble across her cheek only intensified the spell he had over her, the bristly hair sending a shiver down her spine. The intimacy of his presence sent a searing heat pooling low in her belly. She had no idea he could consciously entice such feelings from her. Andraste have mercy, she was becoming bewitched. What startled her more was not only the fact she _liked_ it, but she wanted _more_.

His breath was upon her ear at last, its warmth drawing another shiver from her as gooseflesh cascaded down her toned arms. Maker, the things he was doing to her. How had she been able to keep herself so stoic before? How had she been able to deny any of the feelings she had felt for him. It made her dizzy.

His rough voice spilled out across her ear then, interrupting her heated thoughts. “Well, I always think of it in terms of two parts: half of it should be about romance, and the other half should be about the _sex_.” He chuckled softly. “Now, speaking of _sex_ , would you like to know where I get my ideas for those rather racy scenes?” He emphasized the doubled word, a lilt raising his voice in such a way that it stirred the burning coal of arousal within her. He spoke barely above a whisper, but it was enough to make her draw in a sharp breath out of surprise.

An entertained chuckle rumbled out from his chest at her shock and before she knew it, the words were hot off his tongue.

“Practical experience."

Maker's breath, he used his… dalliances as research? She never thought he had it in him be this forward and obscene about things like that with her. He usually guarded himself fairly well on that front, avoiding questions by deflecting or turning it back on the person who asked them. This was something new entirely. Something she wished to see more of, if she was honest, and he knew it too. She could see it in his body language. Blasted dwarf, he always had to be such a tease.

“Would you like to know another secret?” He whispered, his lips so close they brushed the shell of her ear. “I've found myself with a touch of writers block and I'm in need of a favour. I was wondering if you could help me—well, _bang_ it out so to speak.” All at once, he had pulled her earlobe gently into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the soft flesh and letting it go with a wet 'pop'. Kisses found their way down her jawline next, her skin feeling like it was ablaze with every touch of his lips.

Maker above, he was good with his mouth. Not that she even doubted it for a second.

Doubting why he was suggesting something of this magnitude with her of all people, she couldn't help but question his motives. She wanted to make sure he knew what he was getting into. “Varric, aren't there others who would be… better suited to help you? What about scout Harding? Or the red headed bar maiden Bull had talked about? I hardly think I would be what you were looking for. I'm much too chaste,” She panted out, leaning into his touch as her hand instinctively moved to thread her fingers in his spun gold strands.

“Now Seeker, we both know that's not true. You are many things, but chaste isn't one of them,” he growled out against the column of her neck.

She was breathing hard now. “Oh? Do tell,” she teased back, boldly. “I am curious to hear what qualities I posses that you find so… enticing. I hardly seem attractive by conventional standards, and my manners are often seen as… harsh.”

“Now why would you go and say such a thing, seeker? You may be abrupt, but that's just part of your charm. And as for your physical appearance, I happen to think you're stunning. Take, for instance, your neck. It's elegant, sleek and just begging to have my lips pressed against it. And your legs! Maker they go on for miles…,” he murmured into the crook of her neck, sending vibrations skittering across her skin like a rock skipping across water. The hand that had previously held the book, let it slip unceremoniously to the floor with a dull thunk. Fingers then ghosted up her side, heat radiating from his hands, until it came to rest upon her thinly covered breast. Her breath was tugged from her as he began to tease the offending nipple under her shift, coaxing it to pebble under his ministrations.

Words were getting stuck in her throat. She couldn't form anything remotely coherent; all that wanted to fall from her lips were moans and groans and broken words she suspected made no sense at all. His teeth grazed over her collarbone and his tongue slid over the delicate skin; all words vanished like a spirit in the night. Blessed Andraste, he made her feel like an Orlesian delicacy the way he was nibbling and sucking at her bare neck. She couldn't hold herself back any longer. Passion exploded within her for the dwarf, consuming any foul emotions she had once felt toward him. A loud moan sprang forth; the walls she had erected within herself to stave off hurt and rejection had completely crumbled. She was entirely his.

Knowing she couldn't hold onto her secret feelings a moment longer, the truth of her affections sprang forth. “Oh _Varric_ ,” she breathed, as his other hand moved to match its twin. “How long have I pined for you under a veil of secrecy. I have lain awake many nights, envisioning what you and I would be like if we were lovers. How you would treat me in private company, where your hands would roam and how your tongue would ravish my body. I- I cannot keep my feelings inside a moment longer. I will not. Say you feel the same. Say you share my sentiment on the matter!” She cried out as he pinched both budding nipples simultaneously, his face still buried in her neck, his whiskers creating her skin to take on a beautiful dusky glow.

“You mean you can't tell, seeker? Not even with my lips against your skin, kissing you just so, and my hands caressing your fantastic breasts? Looks like I have my work cut out for me. I'll have to try harder then.” With that, one of his hands grabbed her shift and roughly hoisted it to her knees.

He stole a gasp from her at his course action like a thief in the night; his nimble hand raked up her inner thigh, wasting no time in finding her centre. She hissed at his direct touch. His skilled fingers trailed over her mound, taunting her, until he found her sensitive bud hidden between her folds. Flicking a finger over it once, she let out a strangled moan and cursed. She had not been touched like that in so long, and the way he did it felt so very good. Oh Holy Divine, she craved the friction only he could give. She desperately wished for him to continue his plundering of her as her head fell back at his initial caress, shutting her eyes tight while lust shot through her veins like lightning. It was exquisite.

When he didn't continue his attention immediately, an exasperated groan escaped her lips and she opened her amber eyes, finding his own staring back at her. Maker, why wasn't he continuing? “What now, Varric? Please do not make me wait a moment longer, otherwise I will have no choice but to take matters into my own hands.”

Pulling further away, he smirked. “Tsk, tsk, seeker! Didn't anyone ever tell you patience is a virtue? Where's all that control you pride yourself in? It must be hiding in there somewhere.” His voice took on a taunting tone, making her even more frustrated. “There is one consolation though. I promise it'll be worth it. But first, I've a request. I want you to keep your eyes open for me. I want you to watch as I touch you and make you come for me. Can you do that? 'Cause if you can't, I might not play so nice. I could very well deny you your release. Are we clear?” She nodded, even though the thought of him denying her anything caused a jolt of fury to shock through her. She didn't know whether to throttle his neck or fuck him senseless for putting her through such misery. Admittedly, the later sounded much more enticing. If she killed him now, she'd never be able to feel fully satiated. Her female urges won out in the end; she couldn't help but crave the feeling of his cock inside her, not when he was so very close to giving her what she wanted.

The kiss that followed was passionate and messy and everything she could ever have wanted from him. Their teeth clashed as tongues danced wickedly together in unison, lips bruised by the impact. It was obscenely seductive, the raw passion flowing between them both came without any hindrance whatsoever.

He nipped at her lips and searched out every corner of her mouth with his tongue and she returned it in kind. That's when his hand returned to it's previous business, reinstating his slow torture of the responsive nub at the apex of her thighs. He encircled it once, twice, before allowing his broad finger to brush against it, just for a moment. The zing of pleasure was instantaneous. Her eyes were moist with the strain of keeping her lids open and he cried out against his mouth in ecstasy. She would not give in and allow him to win, she wanted more than anything to beat him at his own game, just this once.

He repeated the action, sending her rocking against his hand. A low, gravelly chuckle poured out over her lips, thick with his arousal. He was trying to make her suffer. That wicked, _wicked_ dwarf. She so deeply desired friction, and yet, he was purposely abstaining from giving her no more than a delicate touch. Two could play that game.

Her hand reached out, longing to palm the straining beast of a bulge within his breeches, but he was too fast for her. “uh, uh, uh!” he singsonged. For the love of the Maker! Why was she not allowed to touch him as he was touching her. This was complete madness and decidedly not fair! She let a disgruntled growl, glowering at him while she forcefully retracted her wrist from his grasp. She was teetering on the edge between arousal and anger now, close to falling on the wrong side; almost ready to push him off and storm out she was so furious, animosity trailing after her like a cape. She wanted action not the promise of it.

Without warning, his finger trailed down her between her folds, and was now poised at her entrance. The sensation shocked Cassandra back to the moment instantly and she gave a shuddering gasp. He was so close. _So close._ Fade take him if he teased her again. She would not stand for it if he pulled away now.

“Have mercy, please, Varric. Do not tempt me, only to pull away once more. _Please_.” She entreated, breathing saturated with her arousal. Now she felt the fool. She was begging him—begging him for sex of all things. She always thought it would be the other way round; him begging her for clemency. How disconcerting.

His lips found hers once more, both fighting for dominance over the kiss. That's when her hands found his tunic and pulled him closer to her to deepen it, making him fall forward into her upon the chair. His finger slid into her seamlessly as he tried to balance himself, one knee coming to rest on the small section of seat between her legs. A loud and quite satisfied moan was released from her, half of it being swallowed up by the messy kiss. A downright filthy groan echoed from him against her lips at the noise and she nearly came undone. “Maker, but your so wet for me. Oh seeker, I'm gonna make you come so hard and you're gonna scream my name so loud—it's gonna wake up half of Skyhold."

The next thing she knew, his other hand grabbed the collar of her shift, tearing it forcefully to expose her breasts which puckered as the cool air hit them. One hand crudely slid down and grasped her exposed bosom while the other, began to move inside. It was a slow, torturous rhythm he set, barely sinking past his first knuckle. Again he slid into her. This time, he pushed farther inside and when he retracted, he crocked his finger just so. Cassandra moaned loudly and arched her back of the chair as he slid past the spot that made her see stars.

It didn't take her long to feel her orgasm coiling inside like a spring, as he sped up and added another digit to the incursion. He groped and massaged her ruthlessly, hands as hungry as a Wyvern to touch her skin and she thanked the Maker that he had not decided to deny her. Bucking and arching against him, she could feel herself coming close to her release now. Any moment she would quake and quiver against his fingers, pulling them deeper inside as she crested upon the wave of her orgasm.

"Sweet Andraste, yes!" She hissed against the roughness of his whiskered cheek, her breathing coming out in unsteady pants as she held him close. She was going to come. But, at the very moment her release should have taken hold, he chose to pull away. Blast and damnation! She cried out in anguish as he left her feeling impossibly empty and unfulfilled. Void take him! He would most certainly pay for his maltreatment of her!

Without warning, she found herself being hoisted up on the table by two strong arms. She was about to question when he yanked up her slip back up to her hips pulled the chair over. Urgency written on his face as clear as day, he sat down in it and shot himself forward between her legs like an arrow; he was about to ravish her with his mouth. She gasped. A fantasy come true.

His nose nuzzled itself between her folds and his deliciously hot tongue pushed inside of her. Cursing at the sudden surge of carnality she felt inside, she spread herself wide to accompany his broad stature and each foot was placed on an arm of the chair for leverage. She leaned into his touch, longing for him to grant her deliverance. Another emphatic and unadulterated moan flew out of her in desperation as she threaded her hand through his hair forcefully; the rough movement sent his tie flying across the room, disappearing into the darkness. His hair splayed out in disheveled points between her fingers as she fisted it, some falling into his face. He looked up at her then, his hazel eyes flashing in the firelight, filled completely with lust. The next thing she knew, he was humming against her vigorously, sending vibrations rocketing to her core as she came loud and hard.

"Oh Varric, Var- oh- _Varric_!" The words buffeted out of her as she writhed against his mouth. He continued to ravish her until she could no longer bare it. Shoving his head back, she gulped in air and slumped back on her forearms, needing a moment to recover from the intense pleasure he'd given. Her legs shaking, she slowly sat up, shift pooling around her sore hips.

Finding him standing up and staring at her with a wide, lewd grin, his face glistened in the dim glow with her slick. Crudely Wiping it off on the sleeve of his broad forearm—the sight so suggestive and arousing—she couldn't help but reach out and tug at his tunic to kiss him hard on the mouth. Her legs curled themselves around his brawny torso, her hands mapping their way up to his chest, caressing the expansive patch of downy hair there. She was surprised at how soft it felt beneath her fingers. It had always been her understanding that chest hair was coarse and wiry. Varric's was soft and thick like a blanket. She now understood why it was considered legendary.

His hands began to move from around her waist as their kisses became increasingly heated, trailing them down her exposed thighs until his touch disappeared at her knees. His hands then found themselves around her ankles, gently pulling her legs apart and lowering them down on either side of him. He quickly threaded back between them, but instead of touching her, they reached down to undo the laces of his breeches instead. Sneaking a glance downward as they took a moment to catch their breath, she found his usually adept fingers struggling with a knot that made itself home on his laces.

“Shit. Shit, Shit,” he groaned, exasperation heavy in his words. All she could do was watch his uncommonly fumbling fingers try to loosen the offending obstacle. It was the only barrier left that separated them. This simply wouldn't do. She was too aroused now and did not want either of them to fuss with some blighted laces that would not untie. Her hands reached out, smacking his own away as she took action herself. Time was of the essence.

Somehow he had taken off his tunic during their struggle, allowing her a clear view of not only his robust torso, but the exasperating problem as well. With a growl, she grabbed the infernal ties and gave a sharp tug, breaking them apart with ease. The look on Varric's face was priceless, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, stunned for a moment at the brute force of such an act. That's when his breeches sagged low, exposing the pale skin of his hips, the ties lying limply on the ground.

Needy hands grabbed at his strong shoulders and pulled him close again, legs wrapping around his waist in desperation. She cursed. He felt impossibly big against her. Moving against him suggestively, she tried frantically to prompt him to mirror her. Moans and heaving breaths filled the air around them as he finally gave in and rocked back against her, the table creaking and groaning loudly beneath them.

Soon, they had worked themselves into a frenzy. Hips, hands and mouths a flurry of action; rubbing, touching and sucking at any expanse of skin they could find, but it wasn't enough for her. She yearned for more. Cassandra was desperate to feel him inside of her, his large length stretching her wide.

Her legs hastily unlocked from around him and—with what felt like inhuman strength—hoisted him onto the table with her. She needed this. Wasting no time, she straddled him, forcefully pushing the flaps of fabric that covered his manhood aside. A loud hiss fell out between his teeth as her fingers caressed the silken skin of his shaft. Blessed Andraste, how she wanted him to recreate that blissful sound. She yearned for him to do it again, desperately.

Without any warning, she impaled herself on his solid girth; both of them letting out a garbled cry as she slid down, seating herself fully. Maker, but he was big; her hips stretched themselves to their fullest, dull pain radiating from her sockets. Damn. She needed to get comfortable if she was going to thoroughly enjoy this. Shifting about, she found a better position and her hips relaxed a bit, and gyrated her hips tentatively. That's when she heard an emphatic groan come from him, his burly hands pressing hard into the skin of her thighs and his head falling askew upon her breasts. She smiled. He was enjoying it as much as she was.

“Maker's breath, Cassandra!” He panted out against the dewy cleft of her chest, his hot breath tickling her skin. Seeing him so bedraggled made her breath hitch. Fade take her, his near loss of control from her movements consumed her with gratification. It was so suggestive that she wanted nothing more than to see him come undone beneath her.

Rising up so that he was nearly unsheathed, she slammed back down upon his girth with relish, making the table protest under the jerking motion. Their combined whimpers drove her to repeat the act and soon she was riding him in earnest, skin slapping against skin, soft grunts falling from their lips. Her fingernails dug into his hulking shoulders, leaving red marks upon his flesh as he eagerly lavished her nipples with attention.

Desire dominated every movement she made, filling her with the searing heat of her imminent orgasm. She lurched against him in wild abandon, keening loudly every time his hips met hers. Her release was almost upon her now; the sight of Varric trapped underneath her, his hair disheveled and sweat dripping down his flushed cheeks turned her on like nothing else. The lids of his eyes were hooded from all of the sexual excitement, his gaze unfocused and breathing coming out in ragged grunts. By Andraste's grace, she had never seen anything so striking.

In one swift movement, she slipped her hand between them, and nimbly rubbed herself. She wanted nothing more than to fall. Her body became taught like a bowstring, tightening her inner walls around the bulk of his shaft. 

Varric rasped. "I can't hold back any longer Cassandra. I am going to-"

Her voice overpowered his own meek words. “Come for me, Varric. I want to see you come undone by my hand.” her voice so velvety against him, he had no choice but to relinquish his release.

He shouted out into the murkiness of the room as hot spurts of his seed surged inside her and he shuddered violently, holding her steadfast against his shaking form. Seeing him fall like that jerked sharply at her own release, propelling her forward into her own violent orgasm.

“Oh, M-aker! Ah-hh! Va-aric, yes! YES, VARRIC, YES!” She screamed, body going rigid as steel while she clamped down on him, her vision coloured with an array of bright lights and sparks.

They slumped against each other with Varric moving to lay back upon the table and Cassandra covering his prone form as they waited for their breathing to slow. Her eyes closed blissfully, listening to the racing beat of his heart underneath her head and let out a contented sigh. There was truly nothing better than being completely satiated after a passionate bout of sex. She had abstained for far to long. She vowed never to wait so long again.

Then a thought occurred to her, as her mind was clearing from it's lust driven state. She was a candidate for the sunburst throne. This tryst they shared would assuredly put a mark against her candidacy and knowing nothing was truly secret in Skyhold, it would not take long for it to become public. Her chance to enforce real change within the Chantry could very well be dashed. Maker what had she done?! A momentary diversion had the potential to ruin everything. What a blighted fool she was.

She was just about to scramble off of Varric in a panic when the table made a loud groan as if something heavy had sat upon it. That's when she felt a colossal expanse of muscle at her back and what she could only guess as a club like object rubbing between the cheeks of her ass. Andraste preserve her, what in Thedas was happening?!

“Varric! I see you've given our Seeker an excellent warm up by the looks of things! She's all sweaty and flushed, Just how I like her. Congrats on your conquest, but now is time for the main event! We could play a little game I like to call 'Dwarf in the middle' if you're interested?” Iron Bull's baritone voice cut through the silence like a sword.

This was ludicrous!

Cassandra froze on the spot. How in the blazes did he get in here without her noticing!? And who in the fade asked him to join them?! This was absurd! She would—for certain—need to be checked out by a healer. She must be delusional. All of the stress from helping the inquisition and the potential to become Divine was making her hallucinate. Yes, that was it. She was hallucinating.

Varric chuckled, breaking apart her troubled thoughts like a finished puzzle. “I hate to be the barer of bad news Tiny, but I'm bushed. Not that the offer doesn't sound enticing though. Maybe another time? Besides, I think she'll need extra attention from you now that she's been limbered up. She fucks so much _harder_ when she's hot for it.”

She was just about to scream in horror and humiliation, when the table made a snapping sound like a tree being felled. It was going to break under the weight of them; Varric and herself would be crushed under the massive expanse of the Iron Bull. Suddenly the table gave out and she felt herself being hurtled to the ground, pinned between a dwarf and a qunari. Moments away from being squashed, it suddenly all went black.

~aCc~

 

Cassandra shot awake, flying out of her seat in horror filled confusion and shouting out to an empty room. Her lungs gasped for air as she came to her senses; it had all been a terrifying and vividly erotic dream. Blessed Andraste, it was just a dream.

She gave a loud sigh. She had not made a mistake and become intimately involved with Varric or with Bull. The prospect of change by her hand unblemished, her secret thoughts of the dwarf and his book were kept safe. The thought couldn't come as more of a relief, as she clasped her long fingers around the novel and pulled it toward her.

Picking it up, she made to stand, her bones protesting. The fog of sleep had temporarily abated from her fright as she peered into the inky blackness of the room. The candle must have burned out long ago, and the once dying fire was asleep in its hearth. Time to retire in earnest.

Padding her way through the gloom, she made her way up the stairs to her bedroll. Hunkering down beneath the soft blankets and fur, she gave one last thought to the highly unusual dream. There was something off-putting about it, but she didn't have the mind to ponder it further. Her body ached from being stationary in the chair for so long, so much so that her head started to vex her, and she wanted nothing more than to shut her eyes and make it all go away.

The warmth of the blankets soothed her pained and perturbed mind; the moderate comfort of the bedroll lulled her to sleep once more.

 

~aCc~

 

 

Morning came all too soon, the first rays of dawn filtered in through the nearby window. As a habit, she routinely awoke at first light, but today, she settled on lingering in the space between the fade and wakefulness.

The dream had no doubt weakened her conviction, and she was in no proper frame of mind to reflect on such a startling contemplation. She would much rather stay wrapped up in the warmth of her covers and pretend the whole thing didn't exist, feigning ignorance.

Sometime later—when she had finally convinced herself to prepare for the day and her starvation made her stomach growl—she made her way to the main hall. As she strode purposely up the steps, the thought of Varric being at his usual post gripped fiercely at her mind. The idea of having to walk past the dwarf made heat flare across her cheeks as if on fire. How was she going to accomplish such a feat without giving herself away? It seemed nearly impossible. There was no way he would not pick up on her unease, and question her on it. He was much too observant. That was not a discussion she wished to have either. Maker's breath.

No. She needed to stand her ground and not act like such a simpering maiden. She was an astute woman, well aware of the ways of the world and it was not the first time such a dream had infiltrated her mind while asleep. It was a perfectly natural occurrence, one that should not have any hold on her in the waking world. It was merely a dream, nothing more. Her resolution set like a pyre, she entered the building.

No more than a few steps in, his telltale voice broke through the din. “Morning seeker. Sleep well?”

She had half a mind to ignore him, but thought better of it. Best to answer, but do it succinctly. Then, she could carry on and try to discount the dream altogether.

“No, I did not. Good day, Varric.” Making to turn on her heel, she wanted to find the farthest place away from the dwarf, hoping the short answer would satisfy him. Clearly, it did not.

“Oh? Have a bad dream, did you Seeker? You know, I might have something to help you keep them at bay…”

Her head whipped round, looking at him for the first time since their conversation started. His hazel eyes twinkled with mirth, smirking at the way she frowned at him. Was that meant to have double entendre? Did he just make some sort of a proposition? No, most certainly not. She was hearing things. He couldn't possibly have meant it like that.

“I am perfectly fine, and do not need any assistance, especially from you.” She snipped back, already growing tired of the conversation. Could he not take a hint? This was becoming insufferable. She let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed at her brow, hoping that was the end of it.

“Are you sure? My method's happen to be tried, tested and true and I'm not just saying that. Ask Tiny. He's experienced it first hand.”

At the mention of The Iron Bull, she began to loose her composure. What was this? Some perverse trick? She had been so certain it was a dream. Varric's referral to Bull though had planted doubt in her mind. It _had_ been unusually vivid. No! There was no way.

“I am sure. Now, please, would you excuse me...” She needed to retreat from the conversation with haste. Again, she tried to leave, now with more urgency than before.

“Alright. Suit yourself, seeker. But if you come asking for it, I could very well deny you help next time. Are we clear?” That's when she swore she saw his eyes flicker their gaze down to her lips for a fraction of a moment.

Divine's grace! Hadn't he said that very thing to her while they were- No! It couldn't be! And the surveying of her lips, just like he had before he mentioned wanting to have sex with her for research! Did that mean it wasn't a dream after all? That it was as real as the soft, glistening hair on Varric's chest? She let out another curse. She feared the worst. Now the ass was making light by teasing her about it in public?! How dare he!

It was always her main purpose to help restore order to Thedas if she was to become Divine, but now, she could very well loose her chance because of her folly! She should kill him right now, and be done with it!

A battle like cry came forth from her and she lunged at the dwarf, grabbing his coat and tunic in a death grip, lifting him clear off the ground.

“Well, if this doesn’t just make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. You know, if you wanted a kiss seeker, you could've just asked." Varric quipped.

"What!-I!- NO!" Cassandra shouted, eyes widening in alarm. This is not what was meant to happen! Blast and damnation! Her face went white as a sheet and she stood—frozen on the spot—as he laughed mercilessly at her obvious discomfort.

A crowd had gathered around them now. Andraste preserve her, this was more public than she wanted, and it seemed that he was not at all afraid to make their dealings known to the general audience with how freely he spoke. Damn him. He wanted to make sure she wouldn't be chosen as Divine, most likely for his own morose amusement. Well, she would not take this lying down. She may have harboured secret feelings for him, but no more. He was such a callous ass. Maker take him! She could not involve herself with someone who publicly took pleasure in treating others like refuse.

"ahem." The Herald's voice shattered her thoughts like glass. Superb—just what she wanted, to have the Inquisitor come and hear first hand how she had let her own judgment slip, for what exactly? An amorous fling? Only to be humiliated in such a fashion. She was so very ashamed.

"I swear on Bianca, Inquisitor, I didn't do anything to provoke this kind of behavior from our Seeker. I have no idea why she has her knickers in such a twist!” He protested, confusion etching itself into his features.

Oh for Andraste's sake, he was covering up his dealings in the matter! What a farce! He was about as innocent in all this as the coterie in a lyrium smuggling operation!

“You must have said something to-” Leona started, crossing her arms.

The Herald had seen first hand, thankfully, of what Varric was capable of; he had taken to badgering her at every opportunity when they were on an expedition together. Sometimes the Inquisitor would step in and come to her aid if he became relentless, but most of the time she had to fend for herself. Thank the Maker she had deemed it one of those times.

Varric interjected, shock evident in his words. “On my mother's honor! All I said was good morning to her and she practically took my head off!"

That lying bastard! He knew what he'd been up to, only to deny it when someone of authority had began asking questions. If this was how things were going to be played, then she would fight fire with fire.

"You were staring at me in a strange fashion. I don't appreciate being leered at Varric, especially from the likes of you." She sneered at him.

Take that you insufferable dwarf!

The anger and hurt seeped into her heart like a poison. She had almost thought that they were becoming friends… and maybe, just maybe something more would follow after Corypheus was defeated. How could they be so close to making headway on their friendship to have him pull such a cruel act upon her. But now, there seemed no hope in it for them. They would forever be nothing but captor and captive to each other. There was no getting away from it now.

"You can't be serious, Seeker. I _leered_ at you? Don't go flattering yourself!" Varric gawked at her, completely stunned. Why, she couldn't fathom.

The Herald chose to step between them then, putting her hands out, trying to put some space between her and Varric. Cassandra guessed it was to ensure that she would not try and lash out with physical violence. It was too late for such a prevention though. Animosity was at a breaking point and she could not stay idle and let him get away with hurting her like this.

“I know what I saw Dwarf!” She accused him haughtily, a finger pointed vindictively at him.

“Oh go suck on a Pommel-nut! I wouldn’t sheath one of Bianca’s shafts in you, let alone my own!”

Maker, did he just say that?! And yet he did! How dare he lie about this! It was preposterous! "Come here you little shit, I'm going to wring your neck!" Cassandra snarled as she took a wild swing at the dwarf, the Inquisitor barely being able to constrain her focused rage.

A booming laugh rumbled over the heads of the gathered audience. "That's the stuff Varric! Make sure she's good and mad for our sparring session later! She hits so much _harder_ when she's hot for it."

The words cleaved through the thick air of like an axe, and Cassandra's face blanched instantly. There was no mistaking it this time; she had heard those same words from Varric's mouth hours earlier, just before they had finished their tryst. Those very words were now coming from Bull, slapping her in the face with its suggestion.

Slowly she turned around, as his sheer bulk overshadowed her. "B-Bull?? Wh- what are you doing here?!" she was frantic. This had no right to happen. First, Varric and now him? The Maker most certainly was making a mockery of her for her choices as of late. All of the air felt as if it were knocked out of her and she crumpled slightly in his mountainous presence.

"Forgotten Already? I'm hurt Cass! I was looking for you; you said you wanted to spar this morning, remember?” He smirked at the Seekers' nonplussed expression, “And it looks like you're in need of a good pounding to loosen you up." The Iron Bull winked at her; his solid muscles flexing in a proud on display as he posed. Sweet Andraste, she could no longer take this. She needed to leave immediately so she could deal with the multitude of feelings that were consuming her. Holy Divine, she yearned to hit something. The pells. That's where she should be at this moment. Hitting all her frustration, hurt, and shame away.

"I- I- must go." She excused herself feebly, needing to be away from them both. Their combined presence made her cheeks flush the colour of bloodstone with their beastly banter and she truly disliked being the centre of attention from it. Wasting no time she took off, feet flying back out the main doors and hurriedly down the steps, putting as much space between her and that dreadful encounter as she could. 

Crossing the courtyard in record time, she stopped by the armoury to pick up her sword on her way over to the dummies. However, when she opened the door and stepped outside, Blackwall appeared to have had the same idea. She cursed. This would most certainly put a branch in the wagon spokes. Perhaps she could convince him to come back later? Or, in allowing her black mood show itself, he might allow her to use them first, for fear of being on the receiving end of her temper.

She marched up to him, imposing an aura of quiet rage. “Warden Blackwall,” she nodded curtly. “I am in need of the pells. You will have to wait until I have finished my training.” Pulling her sword from it's sheath, she turned and positioned herself to hit the dummy, taking his immediate silence as agreement. How wrong she was.

Blackwall cleared his throat. “Excuse me Seeker Pentaghast, but I believe I was here first. So, If y' don't mind, you'll need to wait _your_ turn.”

Truthfully, he was as courteous as ever, but his tone did not match the words he spoke. There was a hint of annoyance laced in between them, that immediately put Cassandra on edge.

She turned on him, her eyes swirling with rage like a storm. “Listen here, Warden,” pushing a gloved finger into his gambeson covered chest, “I was here first, now move along. I do not have time for this trifling argument.”

Blackwall stood up to his full height at her speech, his eyes narrowing in frustration. “Don't Warden me, _Lady_ _Pentaghast_. You're lucky I'm honourable enough to not strike a woman of your rank or nobility,” He spat back.

“Is that so. Well, it just so happens that I consider myself neither.” With that, she swung and attempted to hit him with her blade, her ire roused to an insuppressible amount.

A melodic voice interrupted their impromptu sparring match. “Seeker Pentaghast. Might I have a word?” It was the Ambassador.

“Not now, Josephine. I am- busy! Uugh!” She shouted as her blade whipped through the air, attempting to land a blow upon his shoulder. She missed him, but only just, as he sidestepped at the last moment, knocking her blade down with his own.

That's when Cassandra noticed the change in his demeanour. He paled under the cover of his beard and he stumbled a few steps back, as if he had actually taken the blow from her sword.

“I- I surrender, Seeker Cassandra. You can have the use of the pells. I'll come back later to use them. G- good day to you both,” stiffly bowing once, and hastily taking his leave at a halla's pace back to the stables.

His unusual behaviour struck her curiosity like a match, and she would have gone to investigate if it weren't for the Ambassador insisting on speaking with her. No matter. She now had the pells all to herself, and after lady Montilyet was satisfied, she would strike viciously at the training dummies until they were unusable or she felt better—either one would suffice.

Sheathing her sword, she turned and acknowledged Josephine with a guarded manner, prompting her to move forward to speak. Cassandra knew that she had seen the altercation in the main hall, as she had followed Leona when she came to break them up; her discussion would no doubt be about why she had acted so out of character. Andraste preserve her, she didn't want to talk about this right now.

Josephine sidled up to Cassandra. “Strange. Do you per chance know why Warden Blackwall excused himself so hastily? It seems that I had startled him in some way. I only wish to know, so that if I caused him any embarrassment, I could rectify the situation.”

Cassandra hummed. “No, I do not. His change in disposition was quite unusual, I agree. Perhaps he was reminded of something important when he spotted you, and wanted to attend to it immediately. That is the only possible explanation I can give. Now, what was it that you wished to speak to me about? I hope it was not about my earlier encounter with Varric and Bull, because I do not wish to speak further on the matter. It has been dealt with.”

“But Seeker Cassandra, you are acting so strangely-” the Ambassador started.

The Seeker grimaced. “Some things are better left unsaid, Ambassador. I am fine; leave it be. I do not need to be coddled like some child,” She sighed. If she was going to be hounded like this about the confrontation, it may be best if she left Skyhold and found solace among the surrounding region instead. At least then, she could work out her feelings in peace.

“If you do not need me any further, I am intent on going for a long walk. Please send my apologies to Inquisitor Leona.” With that, she made to grab her meager belongings and headed for the exit out of Skyhold.

~aCc~

 

Cassandra did not come back until just after dinner the next day, feeling more centred and refreshed than she had since her dream. Having time alone allowed her feelings to be sorted out, and her heart began to heal from the wounds Varric had caused with his lying and the embarrassment that Bull had induced.

After her effects were squared away, she entered the main hall, craving a hot meal and the company of the inquisition. It was good to be back. She hadn't realized how she had missed the general hustle and bustle that was Skyhold until she was met with the near silence of the Dales surrounding the fortress.

Sliding into a seat—far, _far_ away from both Varric and Bull—she began to eat with relish, the food tasting much better than the scant rations she had packed. Closing her eyes, she savoured the hot stew as it warmed her from the inside out, revitalizing her tired body.

Leona's voice suddenly hit her ears, nearly causing her to choke on a piece of meat. “Good evening, Cassandra. Was your walk... rejuvenating, I hope?”

Cassandra cleared her throat. “Quite. I feel much better for it, actually. Much less on edge.”

“So, now you've had some time to yourself, do you want to talk about what happened? I promise I'm a great listener and can take a secret to the grave if need be. Not that I've tried, mind.”

Cassandra chuckled. “Thank you for your offer, Inquisitor, but no. I have already dealt with it myself, there is no need to dwell on it further,” she shot a glance at Varric and Bull while she spoke. “I- I did something inexcusable, that has the potential to cost me greatly. Again, I have let my feelings rule me and have since been spurned in return. I realize now the foolishness of my actions and have rectified the situation. It will not happen again, I can assure you.”

 

~aCc~

 

Leona did not have the heart to pry further into why Cassandra had acted so strangely nor why she had decided to take such a long, impromptu walk. The confusion and hurt were evident on her face as she let slip about the unknown foolish action that had her so torn up. The only thing she took note of was the way she looked over to glance at the Iron Bull while she talked about her feelings ruling her and being spurned by them. Could she have confessed love to him, only for him to not return her feelings? Had Varric found out and incessantly teased her to the point of forcing her hand to react?

Her heart went out to the seeker. She herself had only just found that the object of her own affections—Commander Cullen—had already been taken by Dorian. By the Maker, it was no fun having your heart crushed under the weight of unrequited love.

The need to show compassion welled up within Leona and without a second thought, she reached out and gave the Seeker a hug. At first, Cassandra felt like a stiff piece of leather in her arms, but the longer Leona's arms were wrapped around her, the more relaxed she became. Soon, the Seeker's strong arms returned the embrace with as much kindness as she put forth herself.

Cassandra smiled as they released each other. “Thank you, Herald. For everything.”

“Anytime Cassandra, that's what friends are for,” Leona pointed out. “If there is anything you need, anything at all, don't hesitate to ask. I will always be willing to help,” Leona made to stand. “Well, I think I shall take my leave, now. I'm glad you're feeling better. And Cassandra? Please, just call me Leona... it's what all my friends call me. Goodnight.”

With that, Leona left Cassandra to her dinner and headed to her private quarters. So many strange things were going on, she could hardly keep her head on straight. Something indeed was going on among the inquisitions ranks and she needed to get to the bottom of it, if she was going to be able to focus on Adamant and ultimately defeat Corypheus. Hopefully she could find the time to ask around and find out what had everyone so up in arms. This was certainly getting stranger and stranger by the minute and she hoped there would be a solution to all this before time ran out.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is wondering, I wrote this while drinking Cara Mcgee's Varric Fandom tea. It is amazing and where I got the idea for what Varric smells like. If you are interested, here's the link to the tea! https://www.adagio.com/signature_blend/blend.html?blend=84079


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